


The Hour of Creation

by XrosaryX



Category: Original Work
Genre: Coffee and stress equal this, Gen, How Do I Tag, Robots have clock hearts, Robots vs Humans, death threats?, use of guns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-15
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-05-23 03:32:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14926310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XrosaryX/pseuds/XrosaryX
Summary: The clock and heart beat as one for each second. What counts anymore to be alive?





	The Hour of Creation

**Author's Note:**

> Originally was an assignment for a science fiction course I took years ago at university.
> 
> This was the final result from coffee and brainstorms later. I only hope it brings you some entertainment or amusement.
> 
> Now without further ado, enjoy!!
> 
> Pardon all possible grammatical or spelling errors I may have missed!!!

Robots did not have hearts.

They did not have the organ that would beat in time if you ran through the empty streets of the city. They did not have need for breath and wouldn’t be found gasping in the smog just for what little oxygen the city air could provide. They did not have a sensation that would be associated with exhaustion. They would feel the burning of their calves as one would desperately speed faster on their feet. There would be no feeling of dread when you reach that dead end and your body soon begins to feel colder than before.

The only connection between robot and man now, was the fear of mortality.

Robots do not have hearts.

Robots were built with clocks.

Clocks created by the very first Creator of the robot kind many years ago. This Creator was a cruel God who provided life into their children and who had the final say of ‘death.’ Humans and Robots faced the common enemy of death, but Robots faced it faster. Their lives forced and set within those clocks that served as their hearts.

To describe the birth of a Robot is simple. Activate and the clock starts to tick off our lives.

It was a precaution created by Creator and the humans in a fear that we would one day rise up against them. It was a fair exchange, create wondrous beings capable of doing feats humans couldn’t do and make them have just as an equal life span as you.

Regardless, conflict had risen.

We, the Robots, the Shells…Had enough of being found as toys. We were not wind-up toys meant to be replaced and controlled. We the ‘children’ of man had enough and began to wipe out the humans, searching for those who had been descend from the first Creator.

Robots did not have hearts, but they had clocks.

The ticking our heartbeats as we searched for the first Creator’s kin to halt the passage of time. For them to see, life was not meant to create and end on a whim.

My clock ticks off the many seconds and minutes of each passing day as I search the city. I have a total of eight years, nine months, two weeks, three days, and nine hours and twenty-one minutes until the clock in my chest halts.

* * *

In the many pages of books in this library building, in a probability of once section with four hundred books there is a chance of forty books with the following about the eyes of a being. The eyes were not just optical tools to see, but they were also the windows one could peer in through to see the soul within. It was utter nonsense and of course humanistic childishness. Perhaps had I been created a few years ago before the Sweep I would have been in awe at such creativity of man beyond the technology and science they used to birth us.

Yet the saying fits, the eyes of mankind and robot kind are used to peer into the souls of who was who.

At the beginning of my kind’s birth we were merely metallic skeletons with wires and glowing optics. We had developed metal casings that served as our skin as the years progressed and our eyes began to imitate the humans. Now in my generation, our bodies are complete full imitations of humans.

We wear skin and we have hair. Our eyes are no longer little dots in sockets, but resemble the human eye. Eyes settled right and well into sockets that would glow when we cornered the humans.

Indeed, the eyes were the only way for the humans to tell if we were ally or enemy now that we took on their appearance to find them. Their eyes were shades of browns and grays, dull and lifeless much like how they thought we would become with their clocks in our chests.

The eyes of a robot glow in greens, blues and golds. We enjoy the look upon the faces of humans when they realize they are spotted by us in our periodic Sweeps through the cities. I can feel the corner of my lip twitch, the soft metallic click much like my pistol is heard as I keep searching the library.

Humans were said to have been keeping themselves hidden in the shadows of the bookcases in hopes we would forget and move onto another city. They beg for mercy or fight against us demanding why we turn against our creators. They question why we cannot figure out ourselves how to reset the clocks to unlock our immortality.

If the creation could easily over throw their Creator’s original intent of their existence, would it be so easy?

We have advanced to know how to imitate humans, but we are not like humans. Our Creator had created our clocks in order to ensure our lives were short to stop their fears from coming true. Whenever we had attempted to rewind our lives or try to replace, our bodies would collapse and we would be reduced to the very toys the humans had always wanted us to become and remain.

My boots stomp upon the many pages left to litter the floor of this building, the breeze slipping through the cracks of the open windows lightly stroking on my skin as if attempting to get me to shiver. I can feel the cold and warmth, but I cannot grasp the discomfort or comfort of it.

All I feel, and the rest of my kin feel is the desire to accomplish the task we need to get done.

There is movement detected right behind me towards the left, the weight distribution of the footsteps indicate human.

I slowly begin to make my way over to where I found them only to stop as I hear the heavy thuds of footfalls coming towards me.

A human, male and large, comes rushing at me with a raised arm.

Immediately after I feel my lips pull back to smile as I hear the thud of the fallen corpse. My fingers slowly curl into fists, clicking with the gears turning back in order to place the safety back into place.

“….You killed him.”

The voice is high, an octave higher than a man yet not too high to be considered that of a young child. A female human’s voice directs me to turn.

The human is a female.

Her eyes are of the gray shade color. A gray close to the dark metallic coloring of iron of this near dying city of man.

The female human stares at me, her stance indicating fear as she looks at the fallen man at my feet to me. “….He came at you, and you shot him.”

“He was going to kill me,” I finally speak and I resist smiling at the obvious discomfort she displays with her body language. The widen of her eyes display the emotion of surprise while her unsteady stance is the cause of distribution of her weight more on her left leg, her back leg. The posture allows me to indicate that she will run.

I will not of course let her.

Humans could never leave our sights unless they submitted or were killed.

“You know what I am.”

She nods.

“Do you know why I am here.”

She shakes her head.

My hand uncurls and I can feel the opening of my hand pistol slowly form, “I have no need of silence. So tell me-“

“You’re looking for whoever is related to the first Creator.”

The answer is all I need to immediately grab her.

* * *

She does not struggle as I drag her out of the library building.

The indicator for communication rings faintly and I place my fingers to my right temple as I keep my grip on her.

“E0-3-224, reporting. Captured human, female. Location and time. South Central Library at times of 1700 hours.”

“Reporting back, F8-0-0X. Received message E0-3-224, report back to home base before 2100 hours with human female captive in possession.”

“Copy that.”

With that the communication line ends with a sharp click.

“There’s more of you?” The female human inquires as we stop at the corner of a street, “How many more?”

“Why do you need to know?” I inquire back to her in hopes to keep her silent the whole trip back to home base.

“Maybe because I’m curious,” she manages to answer back only to whimper as I grip her hair tightly before yanking her left, “Ow….Hey. We can both talk so this trip doesn’t have to be so quiet.”

“I do not wish to converse with a human.”

The word ‘human’ is hissed out through my gritted teeth and I am certain my eyes have begun to glow lighter. This seems to silence her as she falls silent for more than five minutes and her feet stumble as I make us turn a sharp corner to the right. A hand caked in dirt and bruised in dark red colors and blue rest upon my gloved hand. I only grip harder and she flinches under my grip.

“Loosen it please! I don’t want you yanking my hair out!”

I do not comply.

She does not attempt to yank my hand away. She is very well-informed of my weapon. One wrong move and I could easily uncurl my fingers and fire into her skull. The impact of bullets easily going pass the bone served to protect her brains and painting my uniform and the pavement red had she tried another attempt.

It is only after ten minutes after her protest when she begins talking again.

“….That guy was my dad, not my real dad. He just found me and decided to take me in on a whim.”

I remain silent.

I am not interested in this female human’s story about her relations to the corpse slowly beginning to rot in the depths of the library. For us, humans would all meet the same fate whether it be in the floors of the base or in the open streets.

“He had a daughter before,” she continues as if my silence is permission to go on, “He had a picture of her too. She was a lot older than me though and that we had the same hair color too.” The hand over mine moves to lightly tug at a strand, “I think I know why she decided to leave him….He was a lousy father.”

“I do not comprehend why you are deciding to tell me this,” I finally speak as I stop in the middle of an intersection.

The area is empty and bathed lightly of the faint few rays of sunlight causing shadows to be cast upon the ground. From my position I can find no threats lurking about, but I do not move yet. “I am uninterested in you except if you match the Creator’s bloodline.”

“Why are you so interested? Whoever made you died years ago…”

Her question is answered with a light tug causing her to gasp at my punishment for her to silence herself.

“You are human, you would not understand or rather you had no need of fearing of your existence. What right is it that our own must be set in clocks that count down to our demise when we too wish to exist.”

The female sucks inhales sharply, the hand has returned to grasp to my own again and lightly her fingers tap on my knuckles. A silent plea for me to loosen the hold upon her hair, but I do not comply instead I push her head down. Forced on her knees in front of me I angle her head up to stare into my face as I lean in.

“We have just as much right as you to have an existence.”

“But you never asked to be made,” she answers me, her vocals flat as if trying to mock my own vocal range. That does not amuse me and I bring up my other hand to rest the finger tips at her neck, “You were not asked to be made either, but here you are. Still alive without a ticking bomb in your chest.”

My voice surprises me, no rather my reaction surprises me.

Never had I tried to talk a human captive like this.

I could kill her now, she is one of the many millions still hiding underneath the rubble of this dying city. I can always find another. The Creator’s genetics must have been passed down onto another flesh bag.

Instead I press harder at her throat and her eyes continue to stare up into my optics. “What?”

“Your eyes are golden.”

“A very intelligent observation female,” I scoff as I finally draw my hand back, “Watch your tongue. I am in no mood to be your companion on your trip to our base.”

“My name is Eve.”

“I do not inquire your name female.”

“Well I’m tired of you calling me by my sex,” she retorts as if having not conceived that I had pressed four gun muzzles at her throat, “Call me Eve. I rather spend my last day out here in the open being called by my name.”

I tug her by her hair, forcing her up.

“….Well then Eve I shall enlighten you.”

* * *

Dragging a human, a struggling human was nothing I could not handle. My booted foot came in contact with the boarded up entrance of a hotel building, tossing Eve onto the ground.

She gasped as her hands pushed forward in order to catch herself from falling face down onto wooden floor as I stepped in after her. My optics had begun to glow through the darkness, enhancing my sense to regard the hotel as safe.

Eve slowly began to stand, her fingers slowly combing through her hair as she watched me with caution, “What’s going on…”

I do not speak a word.

Instead I slowly began to unbutton the black jacket uniform I wore before tossing it to the side. Dust flew up into the air mimicking the form of an atomic bomb hitting land as I lifted up the white t-shirt I wore.

A faint outline of a square box was found in the center of my chest, blue lines near glowing against pale skin as I stared at Eve. She stared at the mark upon my chest, her face slowly contorted into a look of horror at the realization of what I would show her. My hand rested upon the square, my palm the same size of filling up the whole space of the mark and pressed. A click was heard and a faint sound of hissing as I pulled my hand away.

The square opens apart like a door and inside was the very reason why I could ‘live.’

My clock was shaped into a perfect circle, the casing a bright gold metal as the two hands were made of a dark black metal. The ticking of my clock echoed throughout the room as I showed this human just what was the reason for my living, what was inside me I had to desperately keep track of in order to know just how long I had as an existing being.

“Now do you see?”

Robots do not have hearts.

“Life is what we desire, and you…Our creators do not wish to hear our pleas.”

The ticking seemed to grow louder as I stood.

“We did not want to do this, but you give us no choice. You do not understand…The meaning of having to know your existence set and you dying slowly. You. Do. Not. Understand.”

For a moment there is only the ticking of my ‘life’ within this space. I await to her hear scream, to run seeing my moment of sharing as a way to escape or even her trying to reach out and rip my clock out with my guard down. Yet I know it is not possible, I will catch her and bring her to the rest of the humans back in the base.

I watch as she slowly walks over to me, her left arm slowly reaching out and my left hand twitches ready to shoot if she touches me, however instead she slowly places a hand onto her sleeve and slowly she pulls it up.

Upon her arm are a series of black lines in alignment and numbers underneath each and every line. “I. Understand.”

For a moment my clock ticks faster as I realize just who this Eve is.

She is a creation, a creation just like me. Created with a million other disposables to take her existence.

I do not have a heart, but my clock’s hands had marked off an hour of me meeting a human who was not a human and who had just as much of a desire to live and exist. Not a creation meant to become a disposable.

**Author's Note:**

> You have made it to the end!! Thank you for reading!


End file.
